


i won't join their ranks

by quensty



Category: The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Afro-Latinx Percy Jackson, Alternate Universe - 1930s, Alternate Universe - Historical, Japanese Jason Grace, M/M, Post-World War I
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:41:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22074178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quensty/pseuds/quensty
Summary: Percy swung the door open and froze immediately, blinking at him. They stood there, motionless, for long enough that Jason became aware of a man whistling on his way down the sidewalk. Jason couldn’t remember the last time he whistled, the last time his step had a little skip, the last time his boots felt light enough for something like that.But he supposed that was why he was here.
Relationships: Jason Grace/Percy Jackson
Comments: 8
Kudos: 86





	i won't join their ranks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [somewhereoverthebifrost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/somewhereoverthebifrost/gifts).



> it's january first of the new decade and what am i doing? posting this. in my defense this only exists bc a few months ago v sent me a post of very good very valid art of jason as a pilot and said "yo..............do ur thing" and then i did bc i adore her 
> 
> the title is from saint bernard by lincoln!

1930s. Havana, Cuba.

***

Jason washed up in Havana during one hot summer morning with what he could carry in his pockets and nothing else, watching as a Sunday Spanish procession made its way through the streets. People hid from the sweltering heat under large umbrellas, sipping their drinks as they gossiped. 

He rented an apartment in the middle of the city with window glass that resembled those grainy photos his mother kept stuffed in a shoebox. He woke up early in the mornings, the habit rooted in his bones, to lean against the cracking plaster and watch the city yawn to life. 

The first few days, he wandered the streets, keeping his back straight and eyes cast down despite his best attempts to stop, but there were some things that were unshakable, like a fever or—

 _Like a breath of fresh air after a long dive, huh?_ Leo said once, still riding the high of their last practice flight. His eyes were bright, staring at Jason over whatever cold, piled up canned food they were given this time: dry beans, mushy carrots, stale bread. 

_You definitely dove,_ he allowed, which Leo responded to with _Oh, you have jokes,_ and a kick to the shin. Jason grinned and nudged him hard, getting the beginning of that feeling Leo was talking about in his chest like a balloon inflating. Leo loved him, and Jason loved him back, and his words kept rattling the silence in Jason’s head—

or something Jason didn’t want to think about. 

After a week, Jason finally swallowed down his nerves and followed the address scrawled on a yellowing piece of paper, rubbing it between his fingertips until it resembled fabric. On the doorstep, debating whether rattling the rusting security door was enough or if attempting to jimmy it open would be a better option, he nearly convinced himself to leave. 

Then someone called out, “I’m coming,” in what Jason noticed was a good imitation of a Cuban accent, though it was exactly that: an imitation. 

Percy swung the door open and froze immediately, blinking at him. They stood there, motionless, for long enough that Jason became aware of a man whistling on his way down the sidewalk. Jason couldn’t remember the last time he whistled, the last time his step had a little skip, the last time his boots felt light enough for something like that. 

But he supposed that was why he was here. 

“I could come back later,” he said in Spanish, half to see Percy’s reaction, half hoping it might add a little levity. 

Fortunately, Percy incrementally relaxed against the doorframe; the ghost of a smile began to form around his mouth, but his grip on the doorframe remained where it was. “That’s a cute trick. Where’d you learn it?” 

“High school.” 

“I know damn well you didn’t learn conversational Spanish in high school.” 

He shrugged. “I guess you taught me a few things,” he said. “I’m a quick learner.” 

A heartbeat of silence passed. Percy bit his mouth. “How’d you know I was here?” 

“I—“ Jason faltered. It was the wrong time to feel shy, especially when he rehearsed this moment for weeks, reciting it in the moments between day and night, when even the insects had gone quiet. “You told me about it. Here. I didn’t know for sure, but I hoped.” 

“You hoped,” he echoed, soft. Jason nodded and watched as Percy took in their surroundings, flicking over his neighbors lounging on their front steps with beer bottles. When his eyes landed back on Jason, his expression changed. He shook the security door open. “How about you come in.” 

***

They met in Europe, specifically in France. Neither Jason nor Leo spoke any French, but according to the others in their barracks, one of the other recruits from the States did, some mixed Mexican kid from Harlem, and his name was Perseus Jackson. 

“I don’t,” Percy explained, once Leo and Jason were able to find him—or more importantly, find an opportunity to be together at all. They didn’t see much of each other, those first few months, on the basis of things neither of them could control. “Spanish and French are two different things, those goddamn morons.” 

Leo barked out a laugh before nudging Jason. “I told you Pierre was full of shit.” 

“No,” Jason reminded him, “you didn’t.” 

“Didn’t I? You ever play cards with him? Worst poker face I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen yours.” 

“Clever. Really. You come up with these yourself?” 

Percy asked, “Are you two always like this?” 

Leo grinned. He was never the type to click with strangers, even when they were kids. It was always him and Jason, but now Leo looked at Percy like he sometimes looked at Piper. “I have no idea what you mean.” 

***

The sun slipped through Percy’s shutters in rays, covering both of them in a honeyed glow. 

Percy’s place wasn’t much different from Jason’s: flaking, old, though not as small. There was room for both of them in the bathroom, and the porcelain sink didn’t collapse when Percy pressed him against it, which meant Percy failed to be completely honest about how long he’d been here. 

Jason hadn’t moved from where his head landed on Percy’s chest, their naked legs tangled together. He idly traced a zig-zag across Percy’s abdomen, then skimmed his finger around Percy’s belly button. 

Percy broke the silence. “How long have you been here?” 

“In Cuba?” Percy nodded. Jason shrugged, bumping his shoulder with Percy’s ribs. “A few weeks. I’m half an hour away from here, more or less.” 

Jason meant it when he said he only hoped Percy would be here. The house was bought and passed down by Percy’s grandfather, he knew, but Percy and his mother only ever made their way down twice in the last twenty-two years. 

A small detail to remember, but once they were discharged a year ago, Jason with two tags looped around his neck instead of one, his brain hoarded every small detail available, piled all of them into a messy heap. Sometimes, Jason was thankful for it, replaying the sound of his friends’ voices as they told jokes. Other times, when he swore he could hear a siren going off and hoped his neighbors couldn’t hear him reciting his name, his street name, and the number on his door, voice high like a teakettle left too long on the stove, he wasn’t. 

“How about you?” Jason asked. 

“A few months.” 

Jason lifted his head. “What about your mom?” 

“In the next room,” he said, and laughed at whatever happened to Jason’s expression. “Calm down. She’s in Oaxaca.” 

“Not New York?” 

Percy stared at him as though Jason had missed something obvious. “They kicked us out,” he explained. 

Jason froze. 

“Or they were about to,” he amended. “We figured we’d might as well beat them to the punch.” 

“I—sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.” 

After a moment of consideration, Percy grabbed Jason by the back of his neck, dragged him up, and kissed him slowly. When he finally let Jason go, he felt dizzy and struck stupid. 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said, mouth working down Jason’s neck, which was, Jason decided, not remotely a problem. 

***

The next morning, when Jason padded into the kitchen to find Percy cooking _huevos con arroz,_ Percy smiled at him, big and brilliant. He wrapped his arms like a ribbon around Jason’s neck and planted a chaste kiss on his mouth. 

He pressed their foreheads together before saying, “I like seeing your shoes next to mine by the door.” 

Jason laughed. “You should write that one down. Out of all your lines—“ 

“You should stop laughing at them if you want me to stop.” 

He shrugged. “Probably.” 

Percy hummed. “How attached are you to your place?” 

Jason looked around the room. The paint was still even, and all the doors still locked fine, but the place felt empty, which had been a surprise when he first walked in. If Percy Jackson lacked anything, it wasn’t personality, but if he’d been here for months, all the rooms shouldn’t have eerily resembled their old barracks: white sheets, white walls, one lamp. 

He wonders briefly if Percy has nightmares, too, then if maybe they’re moving too fast. 

(Leo told him once that his one talent was cheating himself out of good things. _Every bully you’ve ever had has had to compete with your head._

 _Luckily,_ Jason said, _they’ve never won the battle._

Leo frowned, staring. _But they won the war._ )

Then again, they’ve been moving fast ever since they first buckled into an aircraft. 

“The toilet is next to my fridge,” Jason said finally. “Not particularly.” 

“Leave it,” he suggested flippantly, with that same look on him that used to get trouble snapping at Jason’s heels. He was a bad idea. They both were. 

Jason grabbed his plate and scooped a mouthful onto his spoon. “I’ll think about it,” he said, though they both knew there wasn’t much to think over. 

***

On his walk home, Jason whistled.

**Author's Note:**

> there was a mass deportation of mexican people during the 1930s known as the ["mexican repatriation"](https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/abs/10.1111/imre.12054) due to the great depression and a lot of xenophobic attitudes. more than half of those deported were u.s. citizens, which is what happened to percy and his mom. 
> 
> obviously there were issues like segregation in the air force (as well as in american society) that i don't explicitly explore here, and i don't talk about other reasons that people of color would be motivated to enlist, such as false promises given by the military. i know most, if not all, of u are perfectly aware of this, but i just wanted to make it clear that just bc i didn't talk about it in the fic doesn't mean i'm not aware of them or condone any of it. 
> 
> anyway i hope u enjoyed reading this and all of u had a wonderful start to ur new year! 
> 
> feel free to hmu anytime on tumblr @[quensty](https://quensty.tumblr.com/)


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